A Throne of My Own
by QueenKordeilia
Summary: Lame title, I know. Ingrid finally got a throne of her own. What now? Falling in love with her breather housemate? Can be seen as a prequel to my other YD fanfic 'Alone.' Rated T for implied sexual activity/reference. If you don't like Piers (/Ingrid) don't read.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Wrote this because I was bored. Some of it might not make sense at all.**

* * *

"Oh for suffering's sake Piers, not again!" Ingrid yelled. This must've been the 50th time this week that Piers was filming her on tape. He kept taking videos of them together (sometimes just her) as if she was going to turn into dust the next day.

"You love it really, my little blood orange," Piers teased. Somehow, that nickname didn't bother her as much as it should have. "Just be yourself!"

"Okay," Ingrid gave in, without further complaint. Since when did she start doing that? "We got another ridiculous post card from Dad this morning..." she started. Piers hummed to indicate that he was listening. "'Oz, an inspired choice. Warm nights without a turtle-neck or scarf in sight. Renfield's enjoying the local roadkill. Dad.' And there's one from Vlad too. Short but sickeningly sweet: 'We've climbed the highest mountain. Namaste.' And they've both signed it too. 'Vlad and Talitha _kiss kiss._' How hideous." Piers sniggered. "Ugh! Promise me we will never get that smug and predictable."

"You have my word," he replied. She gave him a little smile.

Tapping the scrabble board on the table in between them, she said, "Speaking of which, that's not how you spell villain."

"What?" Piers sat right next to her, staring at the scrabble board and realising she was lying. "Don't be a sore loser!"

"Better than a sore winner." She hissed and snarled at him, bearing her fangs and making him jump instantly.

"Ah Ingrid!" he scolded, pointing at her. She backed down. "That's better. Drink your blood tea before it clots." Ingrid looked away and pouted. "Haha! S-P-I-T-E! Spite! Look at that." She glanced at the scrabble board and glared at him before picking up her notebook and pen. "That's 54 to me. Guess who's winning then?" She turned to look at him. "Me." Ingrid huffed and tried to glare at Piers but found herself grinning instead. She raised her pen to hit him. "Ahh, dont!" he wailed, grabbing her arm to stop her.

Ingrid couldn't help but admire how warm his hand was. As soon as that thought crossed her mind, she pulled her arm away rather quickly, confusing Piers. This was not going to happen again. Three times was too much, even for her.

* * *

"You really are a pathetic breather, aren't you?" Ingrid scoffed, sitting besides Piers on his bed. She watched in mild disgust as he lay under the covers, coughing severely. After watching him struggle to reach his glass of water on the bedside for a good five minutes, she got up to help him. He sat up to drink it before lying down again.

"Is it me, or are you starting to like me sweetfangs?" he asked cheekily as she stood beside his bed and took the glass back.

"Shut up breather!" she snarled and glared at him, putting the glass down. Piers happily noted that Ingrid's glare was losing its hate.

"You... know... it's true. Otherwise... you wouldn't... be here," he pointed out smugly in between coughs.

"I'm here because I'm bored. It's no fun without you - I mean without a breather to abuse or terrorise," Ingrid replied haughtily, slipping up badly.

"Sure, you just admitted it there," Piers commented, smirking at his crush. Although, he had to admit, it was becoming more than a crush day by day.

"Ugh, I'm leaving breather. You're so lucky I didn't drain you; you'd give me food poisoning," Ingrid told Piers, who wasn't insulted in the least. In fact, he found her attitude cute.

"Okay, but I should warn you, I might die from this," he lied, as she walked to the door. Ingrid spun around abruptly.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? Although breathers are weak they don't die from the flu. I did go to school you know," she explained.

"I don't have the flu. I have tonsillitis," Piers corrected. "I've had it on and off for years now." Ingrid huffed and left Piers' room.

Later that night, she checked the NHS website and Y!A, just to be sure.

* * *

The next day, Ingrid stormed into Pier's room at the crack of dawn. She didn't even check to see if he was awake before yelling at him.

"You lied! Breathers rarely die from tonsillitis! There's more chance of us having a baby together than you dying any time soon!" Just after she finished the sentence, Ingrid wondered why of all things, she'd mention having a baby with Piers.

Unfortunately for her, the Scottish computer geek was wide awake. "Is that an invitation, sweetblood?" he asked flirtatiously, wiggling his eyebrow.

"Actually, I think I'll kill you now," Ingrid threatened, zooming over to Piers with her vampire speed. To her dismay, he merely gazed lovingly at her as she beared her fangs at him. "Why are you looking at me like that?" she hissed.

"No reason. Just thinking about our B-A-B-Y baby...!" Piers replied.

For some reason, having a baby with Piers didn't seem so bad. Except the trouble she'd get in with the VHC for doing so. She didn't fancy a repeat of the whole Dimidius Chosen One drama again.

"Lost in our thoughts are we? Would you want a boy or a girl? Personally, I'd want a girl... One that looks like her mother," Piers stated wistfully, winking at her.

It took everything Ingrid had not to tear up. Never in her life did she think that a guy she knew would want to have a baby girl with her, let alone one that resembles her. She always thought she'd be alone. Or if she wasn't married by a certain age, she thought the Count would force her to get married again like he did when she was fifteen. And there would be no way out. If that happened, she'd end up marrying some old fashioned loser (like the Count himself) and be expected to give him sons.

Piers coughed, bringing the vampire out of her thoughts. "You'd really want a girl?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Yes," he answered. "A girl with black hair, pearl white skin and brown eyes. And I'd love for there to be Teagan somewhere in her name. It means beautiful. Just like yours."

Ingrid knew she was treading into a dangerous territory here. She was being touched by the nerd's words and it scared her. She was destined to be alone and that was what she would be. So she squashed the urge to run into Piers' arms and hug him.

"Actually, my name means God's daughter. Ugh, dad is so vain! Plus, Valerica is a better name. It's from the Old Country and it means strong."

Piers wanted to say more but he began to cough again. Violently. Ingrid took the opportunity to leave his room using the excuse: "Uh, I'll get you some more water."

As she left the bedroom and walked down the hallway, a lone tear escaped her left eye.

* * *

"Is this water even safe?" Ingrid wondered aloud as she filled an empty glass up with cold tap water. 'Renfield used to drink it, didn't he?' she thought. 'But then again, he consumed all sorts of filth.'

"Of course it's safe," a familiar voice spoke from behind her. She turned to see Piers bustling around the kitchen.

Ingrid walked up to him and shoved the glass of water into his hands. "Here." She watched him as he finished all the water. "What are you doing out of bed?" she asked, crossing her arms.

Piers shot her an amused look when he realised she was actually concerned. "I'm here to eat," he simply answered.

"Well, as you've probably figured out, we're out of breather food," Ingrid stated, sitting on the kitchen table, her legs dangling off the edge. Piers sighed and made his way over to her. The vampire scowled as soon as she saw the puppy dog eyes he was making. "NO. I can't operate breather... vehicles. And I despise puppies, with the exception of Wolfie."

"Can't you use some special vampire power?" he questioned. "And who's Wolfie?"

"I'd still have to know how to drive, telekinesis or not. And you seem to be forgetting something; I can't go out when the sun's up," Ingrid reminded him. "He's my little brother."

"Fine, I'll go," Piers gave in. "How come I've never seen him before? And how is he a puppy?"

"My biological mother, Magda, left Dad for a werewolf called Patrick. Patrick is Wolfie's father and Magda is obviously his mother, so he's a half werewolf, half vampire hybrid. When Wolfie was four, my mum dumped him here and Dad took him in as his own, after a lot of convincing. Then for some unknown reason, she returned about a year or two later and took Wolfie back to live with her and Patrick. That was a few weeks before I met you," Ingrid explained, smiling fondly at the thought of her youngest brother.

"It sounds like you loved him quite a bit," Piers observed.

"Hmm. Well, more than Vlad anyway," the vampire replied.

"So, two out of three of your half brothers are hybrids?" Piers asked in amazement.

"About that, remember my big brother Malik?" Ingrid started and her housemate nodded. "Turns out he wasn't really my brother at all. His mother lied to him about Dad being his father. He never got to find out who his father was before..."

"He died?" Piers finished uncertainly.

"Dust," Ingrid confirmed sadly. "I threw the fool's remains into the fireplace."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Piers offered his condolences.

"Hmm," the vampire sniffed, composing herself. "By the way, Vlad's a full vampire now. All traces of his breather side are gone, besides his birth certificate. Dad mind wiped Sally and George at his request. Apparently, he was putting them in danger."

"Wow, your family is complicated."

"Tell me about it... Aren't you going to get your food?" Ingrid queried.

"Yes I am. Well, I'm off, see you later sweetfangs," Piers chimed, winking at the vampire before leaving the kitchen to find his car keys. Ingrid rolled her eyes and went to sit at her throne.

* * *

Recently, Piers had set a few TVs up throughout the castle. Ingrid decided to turn the one in the throne room on and see what the fuss was all about – she remembered the time her father told her that he loved TV more than her. Ouch.

When she turned the TV on, she discovered that a soap was on. Ingrid groaned and was about to change the channel when a particular scene came on and caught her eye.

_A couple were standing together in what appeared to be a kitchen. The woman seemed to be a typical geek with massive glasses and unfashionable clothes. The man however, was the complete opposite. He looked like one of those 'bad boy' types, donning several tattoos and gold... earrings._

_"I'm sorry about your stepbrother Ivona," the man told the woman who was supposedly crying. _Ingrid noted that he had a **SCOTTISH** accent.

_"It's okay Peter. Malcolm shouldn't have foolishly associated himself with the Ramsays! He brought it upon himself!" 'Ivona' sobbed dramatically._

_"Aye, your family's quite messed," 'Peter' commented._

_"I know. I just hope my new family won't be," she replied, touching her 'stomach.' _Ingrid didn't know whether she should've been disgusted or amused. It was so obvious that there was a balloon under the actress' dressing gown.

_"Don't worry. She'll be a nice little lass who takes after her gorgeous mother," Peter patted Ivona's 'stomach.' _The vampire knew she should've found the scene cheesy but the situation was far too similar to... Earlier that day.

_"Oh Peter, I thought you always wanted a boy!" Ivona exclaimed before jumping into her lover's arms and snogging him senseless. Peter placed her on the kitchen counter where she straddled him. Then they proceeded to have a quick shag. _Ingrid was paralysed with disgust at this point. 'Don't breathers make their food there?' she thought. 'And won't that hurt the balloon?'_ After a while, the couple finally separated._

_"Well, I'm off, see you later **sweetfangs**!" _Now, Peter had actually said 'sweetheart' but Ingrid heard 'sweetfangs.' She quickly switched the TV off. That soap was way too creepy; there were too many similarities between the plot and her life! Except the kissing bit. As well as the pregnant bit. And the other bit. Which Ingrid definitely didn't want. Right?

* * *

"I'm back!" Piers shouted. He instantly regretted it as he began coughing wildly. After he calmed down a bit he called for her again, "Ingrid!" Silence. "She must be having a bat nap."

After Piers finished eating and putting everything away, he wandered around the castle searching for Ingrid. He didn't have to look far since he found her in the throne room, fast asleep on her throne. Wondering why she hadn't retired to her coffin instead, Piers spotted the remote control on her lap. Out of curiosity, he grabbed the remote and switched the TV on. To his delight, his favourite TV soap was on.

* * *

Three days later...

"Oi! Wake up breather!" Ingrid yelled from where she was standing, next to Pier's bed. Once again, she had barged into his bedroom, early in the morning. "PIERS!"

Said man woke up slowly, taking his time. "For God's sake, what's wrong my little blood orange?" he questioned upon seeing his love awake in the morning, screaming at him.

"Don't 'blood orange' me! I checked the NHS website and it says that if your symptoms aren't gone in four days, you should go and see your GP!" she shouted. "Or something like that. Anyway, today is the fifth day and you look as pathetic as you did yesterday!"

"Oh don't worry. I don't need to see the GP. I told you I've had tonsillitis on and off for ages. Chronic tonsillitis actually. Since I was a teenager," Piers explained.

"And? Why haven't you had that breather operation done yet?" Ingrid demanded.

"Tonsillectomy surgery?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to."

"WHAT?" the vampire scoffed, raising her voice.

"I don't want to. It's a waste of time," the ill breather replied. Ingrid narrowed her eyes at him. "Fine. I'm too lazy." She raised her eyebrow questioningly. "Honest." Ingrid kept the scary face on. "Okay. Maybe I'm a bit concerned too. Apparently, it's really painful afterwards and it hurts when you swallow your food."

"I'm going to give you even greater pain if you don't get it done," she warned half heartedly, coming closer to him.

"Not going to work sweetfangs," Piers chanted. Ingrid sighed and sat down next to him on his bed.

"At least go and see your GP about it," she suggested.

"Nope." She couldn't believe she was going to do this. All for a breather. Well, if she came this far, she might as well go all the way. And it might be enough to convince the stubborn idiot.

"_Please_." Piers grinned at that. Ingrid wanted to slap the silly smile off his face but restrained herself.

"Well, since my sweetblood insists," he finally agreed, taking her hand and squeezing it. As always, his hand was warm and it made her stomach churn. And not in a bad way.

"You'll pay for this," she muttered, pulling her hand out of his grasp.

* * *

**A/N: Looooooool. Don't even ask.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'd just like to say, I used to think Malik and Ingrid were made for each other. Maybe it's because they were both power crazy and emotionally damaged. But then I thought, would Malik really be right for Ingrid at all? I mean, sure they looked great together, even better than Ingrid and Piers do, but would they last? Since they were on the same level of insanity, I think they would've destroyed each other faster before Ramanga even got to try.**

**I think Ingrid needs someone she can trust, someone who can keep her calm and happy. That someone is Piers. If she spent eternity with Malik, she would've constantly been watching her back to make sure he didn't betray her. And what did he do in the show? He betrayed her. He didn't even regret joining the Ramangas. He even tried to save his unlife by getting Ramanga to put Ingrid in his place instead. TBH, I think he liked her but he didn't love/cherish her. Thus, I don't think they were meant to be at all. They would've been better off as siblings.**

**Anyway, since that's out of the way, on with this weird story.**

* * *

In the end, Ingrid decided that she didn't trust Piers enough to go to the GP on his own. Why? She thought he would go and kill time somewhere else (maybe with some breather woman) and then come home, ready to lie to her.

"Are you sure you want to come with me?" he asked in concern, leaning against his car. Ingrid was standing at the castle entrance, adjusting her cloak. "I think you should stay at home... It might get sunny later."

"Be quiet!" she snapped, finally stepping outside. "I'll do as I please. I checked the weather forecast; it's going to be cloudy for the rest of the day and it might even rain. Even though the UV rays are still present, they're weak like they are at night. Overall, the weather today is perfect for me to go outside during the day." Piers watched in awe as she walked past him to get to the passenger seat, relatively unharmed. He watched her get inside the car before getting in himself.

"Aren't you going to wear your seatbelt?" he questioned.

"No." Piers didn't bother arguing with her about her safety - he'd lose. Badly.

* * *

Ingrid had never been to a walk in centre or a medical clinic before. She'd only been to hospital once when Vlad was having insomnia. Due to this, going to the doctors with Piers was just plain weird.

She followed him into the queue to the reception. As Piers kept coughing every five seconds, Ingrid looked around. Of course there were breathers everywhere: left, right and centre. As expected, most of the breathers happened to be gawking at her. The few that weren't staring were talking about her instead.

"Wow, she's pretty mum," she heard one of the snotty little breather kids say. _Of course._

"Why is she dressed like that? This isn't a freak show," one of the nosy old women complained. _Look at yourself._

"She looks like a princess!" one of the little girls exclaimed. Ingrid agreed with that one. After all, she practically was royalty in the vampire world because she was a Dracula, related to the Chosen One as well as daughter of the Prince of Darkness.

"So outlandish. She should be looking after her _poor husband_ instead of wasting her time, dressing up like she's ready to party," an old man grumbled. How archaic. She should be able to wear what she wants. And husband? Really? She just hoped Piers hadn't heard that.

Finally, the pair reached the front of the queue. The receptionist glanced at Piers, then looked Ingrid up and down before looking at Piers again. Ingrid shot her a dirty look in return.

"Which one of you has an appointment?" the receptionist asked.

"I do," Piers answered. "Piers Davis, 11:20." The receptionist checked something on a computer before telling them to sit down.

Ingrid sat down like a Queen and smirked at the people who stared at her. Piers took a seat next to her, amused at both her and the others.

"Everyone's staring," he stated the obvious.

"Of course they are," she replied smugly. "But why are the seats so close together? Eugh, these breathers are too close to me..."

"Hey, that includes me!" Piers pointed out.

Ingrid gave him a once over before responding. "I know."

* * *

"Take a seat please Mr Davis and...?" the GP trailed off, not knowing who Ingrid was.

"Why do you need to know?" Ingrid asked rudely, staring the GP down as she and Piers took a seat. The GP was stunned by her reply.

"You really need to work on your people skills, my little blood orange," Piers mumbled.

"Um, I was just curious. I've never seen you before - it's always Miss McAllister who drags him here," the GP explained. Ingrid instantly shifted her gaze to Piers. Who was _Miss McAllister_ meant to be? The Scottish man sensed his house-mate's questioning eyes on him and smirked. She was jealous.

"Doctor, this is my friend Ingrid Count," he introduced her. Ingrid just waved at the GP, her eyes still on Piers.

"I see," the GP replied. "Onto the problem. Are you having trouble with your tonsillitis again?"

Before Piers could answer, Ingrid beat him to it. "He's been ill for over a week now and keeps insisting it's nothing. I had to force him to come here."

"Yes, Mr Davis tends to do that. Miss McAllister often had to do the same; she usually dragged him over here by the ear," the GP told Ingrid. Then he turned to the patient himself. "My advice is still the same as before; get the tonsillectomy surgery done."

Ingrid smiled with satisfaction and at the same time, Piers frowned. "You're not going to examine me again?"

"Mr Davis, the last time I examined you, your tonsils were heavily inflated. I doubt the situation has changed," the GP said. "How many times have you had tonsillitis this past year?"

"I didn't count. Around eight times?" Piers estimated. "Don't I have to get a quinsy to get them removed?" Ingrid was confused. What the hell was a quinsy?

"Do you really want to wait until you develop one? Best to remove your tonsils before that happens," the GP replied. "I'll refer you to an ENT surgeon who will discuss the procedure with you as well as the cost and answer any other questions you may have."

"Okay..." Piers responded reluctantly.

* * *

"What is the deal with you and surgery?" Ingrid questioned as she and Piers got into the car. "Are you scared?"

"No," Piers lied, putting his seatbelt on and starting the engine.

"You are, aren't you?" Ingrid repeated.

"Fine, maybe... just a bit," Piers admitted. "But that's not the reason I refused before. Believe it or not, I couldn't really afford it without using up my living expenses."

"Really? You shouldn't have wasted your money on games then..." Ingrid commented. "And you're a technician. Assuming you lived on your own, you should've had loads of money to spare." Unless he had been living with and financially supporting Miss McAllister... That did make more sense.

"Well... family issues got in the way," Piers informed her. "You're familiar with those, aren't you?"

"Unfortunately," Ingrid muttered.

"I don't even know if I have enough money now... speaking of which... When are you going to let me go back to work?" he asked.

"Are you that desperate?" she queried.

"Not really," Piers confessed. "But work is a necessity. And my job is what led me to meet you." The vampire found herself smiling at that and for once, she didn't hide it.

"Yes, it did. Okay, I wont try to kill you when you walk out of the door next time," Ingrid said decisively. "I got what I wanted anyway. You have to get the surgery done."

"You told me I should go and see my GP. You never said I have to go through with the operation," Piers chirped, grinning blatantly. Ingrid bared her fangs and hissed, making him jump. As a result, the car swerved a bit. "Okay, okay, let me drive home safely. I was just joking. I'll get my tonsils removed, I promise."

* * *

After the pair had returned to the castle, both of them went to their respective rooms. Ingrid was changing to go to coffin when her stomach growled. Too lazy to walk, she used her vampire speed to get to the blood cellar.

Funnily enough, the Count had left a lot of blood bottles behind by _accident _when he moved to Australia. Ingrid knew it was really one of his rare gestures of love towards her. She was ever grateful for that.

Speaking of love, her mind involuntarily wandered over to her breather house-mate. He just loved making her worry about him. What was the point of acting like he wouldn't get the surgery when he had already decided that he would? More importantly, why did she even worry about him in the first place? He was just a breather. Maybe it was because he saved her life (probably) when he got her out of those horrible catacombs.. Or maybe it was something else. Something she refused to acknowledge.

Will had been a breather too and she had foolishly turned him into a half fang. He would've been alive right now if she didn't get involved with him. Just because Will had made her feel special, she took his life away from him and indirectly caused his demise. Will wasn't the same after she bit him. He had developed a dark side to him which Ingrid liked but didn't love. The part of him that she loved was his innocence and overall breatherness. Although the serial slayer destroyed Will's body, she had already destroyed his soul. All because of a moment of weakness. She killed her first love.

And then there was Malik. Oh how she thought he was the one. Ingrid thought that they would rule the Dracula dynasty together as partners... as _mates. _How wrong she had been. He had no intention of spending the rest of his unlife with her. Instead, he teamed up with the Ramangas and got himself dusted. She hadn't forgotten how he tried to get Ramanga to use her as his sunblock instead. He would've happily watched her - and Vlad - turn to dust, leaving him as the only heir and 'child' of Count Dracula. Despite his declaration of hate towards her and everyone else, she still felt sorry for him. After all, they were both so similar. They had both wanted the throne by any means necessary. Even dusting family members in the process if required. And in the end, she got it.

Did she really want to go through it a third time? Ingrid didn't think she could take three heartbreaks. Piers deserved to live a human life with a beginning, middle and an end. Ugh, she was beginning to sound like Vlad. But she was right. She didn't have it in her to let him go so she would just remain as his _friend _for the time being.

* * *

**A/N: I guess this chapter was a lot shorter than the other one. Sorry! BTW, I plan to make Wolfie appear in this fanfic. I miss him! And what the hell happened to Zoltan? He vanished after Erin and Vlad's failed first date. Why?**


End file.
